“All right.” He eyes a bench off to the side. “Shall we?”
I follow him and we sit down together. “Where’s Sabrina?”
He takes a sip of Champagne. “At work.”
I’m beginning to think she never intended to show up tonight. It’s too convenient. But I won’t say anything; he’s already here. “Why did you come to my party?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
I laugh to myself. Another glimpse into the good doctor’s candid bedside manner. “I’m in a committed relationship, Bishop.”
“Stop it, Macey.” He places his glass on the ground, then turns back to me. “You can’t deny the chemistry between us.” He cradles my left hand in his. “I don’t see a ring on this finger.”
I snatch it away, my ire increasing exponentially. “Is that a universal stop sign for guys who try to pick up men’s girlfriends?”
He chuckles. “Maybe I deserved that.”
“There are some brain cells left up there.” I tap his head. “Aren’t there a ton of girls…”
“Every day.”
I believe him. Who could resist a thirty-something accomplished cardiologist with wicked eyes and a great body? I’m entirely dedicated to Joshua, but I’m not blind. Yes, if I were single, I’d date him. “Pick one.”
“I did,” he whispers. “From the moment I spotted you on Camden’s balcony that morning, trying to pull your shirt down to cover your G-string.”
This is the goddamned story of my pathetic life: feast or famine. “I have a crapload of single friends.”
He flashes his perfect teeth. “I’m quite capable of finding a woman if I need one.”
Arrogant. But I smile, appreciating the sentiment. I don’t like being set up either. Not that I ever chased men. I just never had a problem meeting them. “Friends?”
He steeples his fingers, placing them under his chin. “An interesting proposition, Ms. Taylor.” He stares at me. “As a general rule, I never befriend beautiful women. There’s always an ulterior motive on my part.”
“At least you admit it.”
“Part of my training in med school—always tell the truth.”
I lose myself momentarily in the stark colors of the evening sky. A cooling breeze lifts my hair. “How do you control the urge to ask attractive patients on a date?” At least he’s not a gynecologist.
“The Hippocratic Oath.” He sounds so serious. “Keeping myself far from all intentional ill-doing and all seduction, and especially from the pleasures of love with women or men, be they free or slaves…”
I’m vaguely familiar with it, but never realized it included such words. “It sounds so medieval.”
“Prehistoric,” he corrects.
I laugh. But I can feel his heated gaze on me again. Maybe I should register as one of his patients.
“Most of my patients are elderly.”
I nod. “Why cardiology?”
“Followed in my grandfather’s and father’s footsteps,” he says. “There are five generations of physicians in my family.”
“It must be incredibly satisfying saving lives.”
“It’s more about prevention these days. Why dancing?”
Ah, the infamous question I loathe answering. “Why not?”
“Hardly an appropriate response.”
“Life happens.”
“Not sure that’s how that goes, Ms. Taylor. Shit happens. Life just is.”
“Not a religious man?” I seize the opportunity to steer our conversation in another direction.
“Let’s just say I’ve witnessed too much suffering and death to believe in a supreme power. Call me agnostic.”
“I can’t blame you. I’ve seen a lot of bad things, too.” There’s an awkward pause. “What time is it?”
Bishop checks his Rolex. “Nine.”
“I think we should rejoin the party. I’m expecting some friends.”
He grins. “Some? There are at least a hundred jammed inside your living room.”
We get up and start for the house.
He stops, taking my hand. “Will you tell Camden about our conversation?”
“I’ll let him know you made an appearance.”
He bows his head. “Tell him I think he’s a lucky son of a bitch.” He lets go and departs, following the walkway to the gate.
Chapter 15
I toss my keys to the parking attendant, shake my head at the amount of cars parked in Macey’s driveway, then jog up the steps. Bishop appears out of nowhere and I take a deep breath.
“A mild night, Camden.”
I glare at him, wanting to rearrange his face—starting with his smug grin. “What are you doing here?”
“Macey graciously invited me.”
I fist my hands. “Invited?”
“Sort of,” he clarifies. “My date ended up working a double shift.”
His explanation does little to calm me. I don’t want him anywhere near her. It’s an impossible demand; we’re neighbors, and my girlfriend likes everyone. She’s a people magnet. “Leaving?”
“No reason to stay.”
“Why’s that?”
He tells me about the episode on the dance floor. I grudgingly thank him for standing in for me. “Is the asshole gone?”
“Long gone.”
“Good.” I face the door again, desperate to see Macey. He taps my shoulder. “What?”
His eyes narrow. “Better keep this one closer,” he warns.
My jaw clenches. “Or what?” My palms are sweaty with anticipation. One wrong word and I’ll punch him.
“She’s worth more than the others.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” I growl, opening the front door and disappearing inside.
The living room is filled with smoke. I see a few people from the club and we exchange hellos, but Macey is nowhere to be found. I peek into the kitchen, just staff. Hell. I check the pool room: still no sign of her. Frustrated, I head outside. There are a dozen people on the veranda laughing and a few swimmers in the pool. The garden? I find her next to the waterfall, her back to me. I’m enjoying her moonlit silhouette too much to talk. She dips her fingers in the pool, swirling them around. She’s as immersed in thought as those fish are in water.
“Why couldn’t you be here to help me?” she whispers.
I know she’s not talking to her father.
“Just when everything starts to feel right, something always gets in the way,” she continues.
I’ve looked forward to hours of playful and intelligent conversation with her all weekend. Finding her this way, distressed and likely missing her mother, makes me sad. And I’m sure Bishop had something to do with her present mood. “What’s in the way, darlin’?” I finally make my presence known.
She twists around, her vivacious smile warming my blood. “Nothing.”
I close the gap between us, resting my hand on her arm. “I met Bishop out front.”
She avoids my gaze, sniffing the air. “I smell fajitas.”
“I don’t want to discuss this later, Macey. We need to talk about it now.”
“I’m sorry for the trouble, truly I am. But he’s harmless.”
Now I know she’s either hiding something or just delusional. “No, you’re wrong. He’s inspired.”
She feigns a cough. “By what?”
“You.”
“No.” She turns away. “Impossible. I hardly know him.”
“He’s watched you.”
“That’s bordering on creepy.”
“I’m not talking about stalking you, Macey. I’m referring to the way a man with refined tastes admires anything desirable. Be it a million-dollar Ferrari or a gorgeous woman.”
“Is that what I am? A sports car?”
I lean closer, purposely breathing on her neck. “No. You’re an oasis.”
She shivers, retreating a foot. My eyes rove up her body, slowly devouring every inch of her. She’s wearing a bikini, tinier than the one she wor
e last week. Easier access. My mouth goes dry.
“Men are predators,” I add, hoping she’ll understand. Even if Bishop is my neighbor, he’s not to be trusted.
“Are you?” Big blue eyes meet mine.
“Absolutely,” I confess on a smile. “But I’ve already claimed my prey.” I encircle her waist with both arms, locking her against my body. “And I want to taste you over and over again.”
“Macey? Joshua?”
We both turn. Garrick and Robyn Dempsey are standing a few feet away. “Good to see you again,” I say, walking closer, offering Garrick my hand. We shake. “The security system is operating perfectly.”
“Glad to hear it.” He glimpses at Macey. “Everything okay?”
“Wonderful.” She smooths her skirt. “How long have you been here?” She hugs Robyn, then massages her baby bump. “How’s he doing?”
“We just got here,” she answers. “As for the boy, he’s starting to kick.” Robyn groans.
“There’s sparkling cider in the fridge and chocolate fondue,” Macey offers.
Robyn licks her lips, then gazes at her husband. “Mind if we head inside?”
“Not at all,” he says. “It’ll give me a chance to catch up on things with Joshua.”
Macey gives me a quick peck on the cheek, then grabs her best friend’s hand and drags her away.
“Sorry if we interrupted anything.”
I shrug. “Nothing we can’t finish later.”
“Robyn filled me in—the two of you are officially dating now?”
I’m not the kind of man who likes to discuss my private life. But he looks sincere enough, and I remind myself that he cares about Macey because she’s his wife’s best friend. “As official as she’ll let it be.”
That makes him smile. “She’s a fucking handful.”
“Two.” I gesture with my hands.
He laughs. “I know the feeling.”
He’s not here to make small talk; he has something to say about his closest friend. “Get it over with.”
He lets out a frustrated breath. “There’s no excuse for Wesley’s bad behavior. But he’s finished being an asshole now and has promised to let Macey get on with her life. You won’t see him at the club and he won’t be showing up here unannounced.”
“I don’t want him here at all.” Our gazes lock. I respect anyone who demonstrates loyalty, even for a fuckup like Wesley.
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
“Good,” I say. “Want to grab a beer?”
“Sure.”
—
Robyn and I are sitting in the kitchen, overindulging in chocolate and plump strawberries. I pop another one in her mouth and giggle. She’s eating for two now, but I recall when she hardly ate anything at all. Garrick helped convince her otherwise—now she’s shameless.
“There’s chocolate on your bottom lip.” I point.
“What about the strawberry juice on your chin?”
I grab a napkin and blot my face. “More?”
“No.” She holds her hand up. “Enough distractions,” she says. “Tell me everything.”
“About what?” I play stupid.
“Him.”
I turn my head, glancing around before I speak again. “Crazy. Sexy. Love.”
“In that order?” she teases.
“Not necessarily.” My body heats up just thinking about it.
“And what’s this about love?”
Playing with a dull razor blade is more fun than answering questions about my sex life. But I opened the door. “Not in love, per se.”
“I don’t recall another kind.”
Touché. “I can’t explain it,” I admit. “I’ve never felt this way before, that much I know.”
“In just two weeks?”
“Does the time scale really matter?” I ask. “Hell, we’ve both had customers propose after one table dance.” We both laugh.
“Does he know?”
“Hardly.” Not after the way I treated him when he risked telling me he cared. If the L-word ever escapes my lips, I’ll simply die. There’s no way I’m surrendering that much control to anyone, even Joshua. “I already told you I’m not sure how I feel, but whatever it is—it’s scary.”
Robyn takes my hands in hers. “Didn’t you advise me a couple of years ago to confess everything to Garrick or you would do it for me?”
I nearly choke. “Yes,” I grudgingly concede. “But I’m not driving Joshua to murder.” Garrick nearly killed a psychotic drug dealer who tried to rape Robyn twice.
“No,” she says sarcastically. “He just punched Wesley in the face for touching you.”
“That’s different.”
“No,” she insists. “It’s not.”
She didn’t force her Suzy Homemaker philosophies on me when I was dating Wesley. “I’m not going to tell Joshua I love him.”
“Why not?”
I shut down. That wasn’t Robyn’s voice. It’s Joshua. I cover my face with both hands and my heart flip-flops in my chest. Because I don’t. I can’t. I refuse to. “Let it go, Camden.” I look up. He’s leaning against the archway, Garrick standing behind him.
“Can’t do that, darlin’.” He steps inside the kitchen.
“Well,” Robyn says, rubbing her hands together. “Strawberries, anyone?”
Garrick takes a seat beside her. But Joshua just looms over me, his face hard and unyielding. “There are no secrets between us, right, Macey?”
Why is he forcing the issue? “I won’t ask you again,” I caution. “Let it go.”
He drops into the chair next to me, his intense eyes burning holes in me. “What if I don’t want to?”
“I’ll do it for you.” I stand, exchange a rueful look with Robyn, then leave, headed for a place where Joshua won’t find me.
Chapter 16
I dump the last of the wine into my glass and take a long drink before dropping the empty bottle on the grass. Joshua acted like a pompous ass inside. Coercing me into saying I love you won’t make it any easier for me to deal with my feelings. My heart is hidden underneath layers and layers of resistance and denial. A half-dozen men waited around to hear me confess my love over the years. I never have.
I stare heavenward. The sky and stars are spinning a bit. I haven’t drunk this much in a long time. I enjoy a good buzz once in a while, but getting shit-faced isn’t my thing anymore. I’ve been reduced to seeking sanctuary behind my greenhouse, a place no one will look for me; it’s a long walk in the dark. I’m glad Renee and her staff are contracted to stay long after my guests leave to clean up the mess. But it’s only midnight, and usually no one leaves until sunrise. I yawn, afraid I’ll fall asleep if I lie down, but I can’t resist the urge to get more comfortable. I fold my hands underneath my head, letting the events of the last two weeks play out over and over again in my mind.
My flight home, catching Wesley on the phone inside the airport bar, our breakup, meeting Joshua, getting stranded at IHOP with him, him catching me with my vibrator, him licking me delirious, our continued arguments at work, him taking me home and seducing me…It’s an endless list. And as intriguing and wild as it is, I’m not fully convinced I’ve made the right choice, heading blindly into a new relationship without giving myself enough time to get over Wesley.
I chew on my bottom lip, realizing it’s too late to turn back now.
I inadvertently referred to him as my boyfriend first. Now we’re locked in. Then my hopelessly Joshua-addicted body takes over my mind. He’s considerate, funny, kind, intelligent, educated, wealthy, great in bed, hot, and fucking perfect. Did I miss anything? Yeah—well endowed. Tic-tac-toe. Bingo. Hole-in-one. Houston, we have a freakin’ problem. I’m crazy about him.
I sigh, resolved to resist my deepest feelings. I’m Macey Taylor, not some simpleminded Texas debutante looking for a husband. “Go away, Joshua Camden!” I scream.
“Not a chance.”
How many times is he going to catch m
e talking about him in one night? If I were sober, I’d run. But I’m not. And I’m pretty sure if I tried to stand up, I’d fall down. “How’d you find me?”
“GPS.”
Right.
He sits down next to me and offers me a blanket. “Thought you might be chilly.”
“I’m not.”
“Well,” he says, covering me up anyway. “Robyn asked me to give you a hug.”
“No!” I rip two handfuls of grass up and throw it at him. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“All right.” He sighs. “What’s troubling you, darlin’?”
“You,” I slur. “And Wesley and Dr. Killjoy.”
“Sounds epic.”
It is, even if he’s making fun of me. “It’s not a joking matter.”
“Never said it was.”
I stare at him. “Are you jealous?”
“Completely.”
I nod my approval. “Better be.”
“Do you love me?”
“Stop asking me that.”
“You said it.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Sure did,” he argues. “Heard you with my own ears.”
“You’re gravely mistaken.”
“You’re a shit liar, Macey.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re a shit boyfriend.”
He laughs. “Since when?”
I mull it over. “Since now.”
Another chuckle. “Permission to stretch out next to you?”
“No hands.”
Like a gentleman, he folds his hands on top of his stomach, never touching me. “What are you afraid of, Macey?”
“Everything.”
“Why?”
Emotions swirl inside me. My alcohol-saturated brain is playing tricks on me. “Abandonment issues, separation anxiety, and I was raped a long time ago. Throw in a little milk and eggs and you end up with a fruitcake.”
He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one arm. “Stop masking your pain with sarcasm.”
“I can’t help it—that’s the way I roll.”
“I’m not sure I believe that. But even if it’s true, not anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you can trust me, Macey. With everything. Good and bad. Especially what you just told me. I won’t judge you. And if anyone does—screw them.”
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